


what if it was you

by nicheinhischest



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, M/M, kidfic ITS KIDFIC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicheinhischest/pseuds/nicheinhischest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles assesses the pile of board games for a long moment before pulling out one in particular and dumping its contents on Scott's floor. “We need a plan like Mouse Trap. Look. We'll call it How To Avoid All Of Life's Obstacles And Win Isaac's Heart."</p><p>Scott laughs. "What the hell, Stiles, he's not a piece of cheese."</p><p>"Okay, but," Stiles waves a hand at the mess of a board game as he starts to set it up, "it's like, a metaphor for your life, dude. You <i>are</i> the mouse. Isaac <i>is</i> the cheese. This boot thing - I dunno what that is, but it's not good."</p>
            </blockquote>





	what if it was you

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Motion City Soundtrack's "It Had To Be You"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bn_9uSNjbr0), which was listened to on repeat while writing this. (This is set somewhere in the Midwest because I don't ever want to know what snow-less winters are like _whoops_ ; primarily from Isaac's POV, but it'll switch to Scott's every once in awhile. Enjoy! [I hope!])

The first time Isaac meets his new neighbor, it’s the end of summer, and the guy's lugging a box marked KITCHEN SHIT? up the stairs while Isaac hurries _down_ to catch the number twelve bus to work. They do this stairwell tango - Isaac can't fit through and he's not that much of an asshole to try and _make_ himself, so he backs up the stairs and onto the landing. New Neighbor Guy smiles up at him gratefully. 

"Thanks, dude," he says. "I'll be out of your hair soon."

"It's okay," Isaac tells him just as another guy - this one rail thin and with freckles - comes struggling up the stairs wheezing. His box says GAMES :D and he balances it on the bannister before letting it fall onto the steps. "Jesus, Scott, we need to work on your priorities - kitchen and game systems are typically not what gets brought up first."

"Yeah, but I get bored and hungry when I unpack stuff," Scott says, and nods to Isaac, who is shifting from foot to foot and now has about seven minutes to pull off a ten minute walk to the bus stop. "This is our neighbor, I think. Came out of 204?" 

Scott doesn’t wait for confirmation, just waddles to his own door with his armful - 203 to Isaac's 204 across the way. Scott's friend is draped along the stairs now, panting against his box; he waves pitifully. "Hi, new neighbor. I'm Stiles, and I regret agreeing to this."

"I have to get to work," Isaac blurts out. 

Stiles squints up at him. "Rough," is all he says, and Isaac shakes his head.

"No - you're - "

"Shit, Stiles, you're in his way, move."

"But I'm so tired," Stiles says. "I think I'll die here.”

Scott’s unlocking his apartment and he calls out, "Stiles, _move_ , you dick."

Stiles blinks up at Isaac. "Step over my frail, weakened body," he says woefully. "I don't mind."

Isaac doesn't need to be told twice: he leaps down four steps at once and narrowly misses catching Stiles' foot. He's turning the corner of the stairwell hurriedly when he hears Scott shout, "I'm sorry, I promise he'll be gone when you get back, 204!"

"Isaac!" he yells back up at his feet hit the first floor landing, and all he hears when he pushes the door to the apartment complex open is Scott's laugh, bright and infectious.

*

Stiles isn't on the stairs when Isaac gets back; Isaac can hear his voice, among several others, coming from the open door to Scott’s apartment. Isaac tries walking past as quietly as possible - he still has to pick up Charlotte from upstairs - but he hears Scott say, “Hey 204!”

Isaac glances at the open doorway: a group of twenty-somethings are sitting on the floor eating Chinese, Scott with a box all to himself and holding chopsticks with clumsy fingers. He’s smiling wide and happy, and he waves for Isaac to come in. Isaac leans against the doorframe instead, and nods at Scott’s friends.

“Come have dinner with us! Hey, this is the guy I was telling you about,” Scott tells a pair of girls sitting closest to him, which, _what_? 

He gets the distinct feeling he’s being given a once-over before one of them smiles sweetly. 

“Hi. I’m Allison.” She slides her fingers around the other girl’s wrist, and then nods at a boy to Scott’s right. “Lydia - we live here, too. That's Danny. And Derek,” she points to a surly looking guy coming out of the kitchen with a bundle of paper plates in his hand. He glances at Isaac, unsmiling, and then says to Scott, “Do you even know him, he could be a murderer.”

“ _You_ could be a murderer,” Stiles says with a muffled voice from where he’s lying, inexplicably, underneath a coffee table. 

“Shut up, Stiles.” 

“No - you definitely have a murderer face, Hale. How long have I said this? Scott, back me up -”

“He has said that since we were like, fourteen,” Scott agrees. 

“Yeah, see? This guy,” Stiles waves an arm blindly in Isaac’s general direction, “just looks like he rescues puppies and then cries about it.”

Derek knocks the back of his hand against Stiles' thigh as he sits down, and Stiles yelps and bumps his head on the underside of the coffee table. 

“I promise they’re not always like this,” Lydia says, but Danny lifts both eyebrows and gives Isaac a wry look.

“I promise _they are always like this_.”

“Um,” Scott’s still smiling at him, maybe a little more hesitant, like he knows his friends are a bit much, all at once. “Dinner? You can have my eggroll.”

Isaac shakes his head and feels a smile tug at his mouth. “No, sorry, I - um.” He hesitates, and then figures he may as well bite the bullet and end this friendship before it starts: “I have to pick up my daughter, so.”

Isaac’s had experience with this - kids in their twenties don’t normally want to hang out with parents, even if the parent in question has only been able to legally buy alcohol for a handful of months. But here, Scott’s smile just gets impossibly wider. “Aww, that’s so cute, dude. You should bring her over, she can have a fortune cookie!”

“It’s late,” Isaac says apologetically, and he does sort of feel sorry - they seem nice, and every adult in this building is at least ten years older than him. “Bedtime. You know.”

“Oh.” Scott deflates, and then perks up just as quickly. “Well, next time then, yeah? Everyone on this floor is old as shit, you’re the youngest person we’ve seen walk by all day. That means you have to be our friend.”

Isaac laughs, can’t help it, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure.”

He waves, gets a chorus of _Bye, 204!_ in return, and makes his way up to 301, where his seventeen-year-old babysitter and general lifesaver Heather is waiting for him.

Charlotte’s sleeping when Heather hands her over carefully. She slings the diaper bag over Isaac’s shoulders, says, “She _just_ fell asleep - we went to the park today and she didn’t want to take a nap, so she’ll probably be out like a light until tomorrow morning.”

“Thanks,” he smiles, and hands her a twenty. She waves a goodbye and shuts the door; Isaac makes his way down the stairs with a sleeping two year old in his arms, and when he gets to their apartment, he can see something lying on the welcome mat in front of it.

He realizes what it is when he gets closer, and he laughs and glances at the now-closed off apartment 203. He hears murmuring from behind it, hushed whispering, and picks up two unwrapped fortune cookies as carefully as he can with Charlotte still in his arms before he unlocks the door.

He’s turning to shut it when he catches sight of Scott’s head poking out from his yet again open door. Isaac waves the hand with the fortune cookies in it, and Scott grins and waves back. 

“Next time?” he asks again.

“Yeah, next time.”

Scott looks pleased. “Cool. ‘Night, 204.”

“Isaac,” he tells Scott again on a laugh, and Scott lifts a shoulder, still grinning wide. 

“Goodnight, Isaac,” he says, and Isaac’s eyes crinkle in the corners.

“Night, Scott.”

*

He's not really expecting Scott to make an effort to reach out, so he's surprised when there's a knock at the door a few weeks later, and Scott's standing in the hallway smiling. (Isaac wonders, vaguely, if he ever stops, but it doesn't seem likely.)

"Hey." Scott hops up on his toes. "So, I'm having an apartment-warming thing Friday night, if you wanna come?"

It's tempting. He gets off his work-study shift at the school café at seven, makes it back here by eight, but - 

Charlotte comes running across the room, babbling something in almost-English as she grabs him 'round the legs - _daddy, more piderman?_ \- and Scott laughs.

"What’s piderman?"

"Spider-Man," Isaac translates. "She's obsessed with him. Think it’s the webs."

"Neat," Scott says as he looks down at her. He holds out a hand for her to slap. "Sup, sweetie, what's your name?"

She turns her face in shyly. Isaac offers, "Charlotte - Charlie," and Scott glances up at Isaac, and then smiles softly at her.

"That's okay, you don't have to say hi, Charlie. But I _did_ wanna know if you'd come to a party with your dad?"

She lifts her head. "Pardee?"

Isaac rolls his eyes fondly, combs a hand through her tangled, curly hair. "Of course she looks up at that."

"Hey," Scott chides. "It just means she has good taste."

He presses his hands to the doorframe and leans in a bit. “You're gonna come right?"

"I don't, I mean, I don't wanna make you guys tone it down for her, it's okay -"

Scott barks out a laugh. "Dude, we're not gonna be swinging from chandeliers and throwing TVs out the window. Half of us have work on Saturday. There might be a pong game, but mostly we're just gonna play like, Yahtzee and stuff."

Isaac raises an eyebrow, doubtful. "Seriously?"

"I swear! We stopped playing Monopoly after Lydia made Stiles cry that one time, but man, I've got like, Boggle. Jenga. Twister! Dude, I’ll kick your a - butt at Twister."

Isaac doesn't bother to hold back a laugh at that. "Am I going to a housewarming party or a sleepover?"

Scott grins. "Does that mean you're coming?"

Isaac sighs, even as he smiles. "Yeah, why not, I get home at eight, Friday. Can't stay too late, but -"

"Great! It starts at nine but if you wanna come over earlier, I don't mind at all."

"Okay, bye," Charlotte says at that, and tugs on Isaac's arm. "Piderman please?" 

"Sorry. She just wants me to restart the DVD." She’s yanking on his arm, trying to force him further into the apartment; Isaac lets himself be pulled, and finds himself saying, "You can - you can come in, if you want."

Scott glances back at his apartment, and then shrugs, steps in and closes the door behind him. "Why not, class doesn't start for another hour, anyway."

"You go to school around here?"

"Yeah, my second year. Got tired of that dorm life."

Charlotte’s still dragging Isaac to the living room - _The Amazing Spider-Man_ menu is stuck on loop, and he picks her up, plops her down on the sofa, and hits play on the DVD remote. She looks up at him, touches her fingers to her chin and holds them away clumsily. "Dank yoo."

Scott whistles, impressed. "Sign language?"

"Yeah, it's - you know, when they're little, they can't exactly tell you what they want, so it's. It's handy."

Scott waits a beat, and then snorts and repeats the thank you sign. "Handy. Sign language."

Isaac detours to the kitchen with a laugh. "Wanna drink?"

"Water's fine." He sits at the dingy little table Isaac has set up there, with the wobbly leg and scratched top - out of place among the newer furniture and appliances, but Isaac can’t afford a new one at the moment - and he glances around the apartment as Isaac sets down a glass of tap water for him.

"So, you're - what, nineteen?" Isaac asks as he sits, and Scott shakes his head. 

"Nah, I waited a year before I went to school." He takes a sip of his water, his mouth curving up along the rim of it. "I turned twenty a few weeks ago."

"Happy belated birthday.”

Scott shrugs, and his mouth pulls up in the corners. "Thanks - what about you?"

"Uh," Isaac glances into the living room - the loveseat faces the kitchen, and he can see Charlotte resting her head on the arm of the sofa. "I go to school, yeah. Part-time. I'm - I turned twenty-one in May."

"Damn." Scott glances over his shoulder at her, too, before turning back to Isaac. "How old is she?"

"She’ll be three in December.”

Scott nudges him in the shin with his shoe, and Isaac picks at a scratch on the table instead of looking up until Scott folds his arms on the table and leans across it. "If this is totally uncalled for, you can tell me and I'll shut up -"

"Where's her mom?" Isaac hazards a guess, and peeks up at him. "No clue."

"What - seriously. You're not divorced or anything are you?"

"No. Have to be married in order to get divorced." Isaac starts to laugh, and then stops, because even after all this time, it's still not very funny. 

"She - we were friends in high school, and just made a series of, um. Really poor decisions that involved lack of condoms and us not caring and then, well. We graduated in June, the same week I turned eighteen, and Kali told me she was three months pregnant and I don't know. I guess we were young enough and naïve enough to assume it'd all work out."

Scott grips his glass with both hands, frowning. "What happened?"

"Her parents kicked her out, my mom tooks us in. We thought we could deal, but it turns out _she_ couldn't, and she kind of just - we were living with my mom while we went to school, right - this community college at the edge of town - and a few months after Charlie was born, she's gone when we wake up and calls me two days later from an unknown number and says _I can't do this_. Dropped out of college, came back once to pack her shit up when no one was around. Haven’t seen her since."

Scott still has a downturn to his lips, and he nudges his foot against Isaac’s shin again. "So she's just been like, AWOL for the past two years? She doesn't even call and check in?"

"Every once in awhile. Last time,” he squints, thinks back: “New Year’s, I think? Arizona area code.”

Scott thunks back against his chair. "Shit. That's heavy, man. And like - you don't - it's usually the other way around, you know.” He smiles; it fractures into a thin line, and his mouth pinches at the corners. “I know all about dad’s bailing.”

“Yeah,” Isaac agrees without thinking, and Scott cocks his head, and then smirks.

“You, too?”

“Dad was a dickhead.” Scott grins at this and holds out a fist for Isaac to bump in commiseration; Isaac does, and continues: “My mom divorced him when my brother and I were kids, and he fucked off. We were better without him. You can’t make someone stay who doesn’t want to be there. Learned that a long time ago.” 

“You really don’t seem like the type of guy who’d abandon his kid," Scott tells him, and his foot _nudges_ again.

"No," Isaac says. It’s what everyone back home thought. Figured he'd hand her over to the grandparents who didn’t want her, beg his mom to take her in so he could have his life again, beg _her_ to come back. "I couldn't. Man, like - I remember looking at her the day she was born and, and her fingers were so _small_ , you know? She was so tiny and breakable and I just. I loved her from the second I saw her."

He holds his hands apart, pictures holding her in that hospital room and tries to explain: "It's - I looked at her and I knew I’d _die_ for her. I can't imagine ever leaving someone I love that much."

He glances at Scott before burying his head in his hands. "Jesus Christ," he grimaces, and laughs at himself. "We’re swapping life stories and all you wanted to do was invite me to a party."

"No, it's -" Scott has this _smile_ on his face, all sorts of soft and affectionate. He licks his lips and looks down. "It's awesome. Really. Thank you for telling me."

There's a lull, a moment where they just watch each other - _Spider-Man_ 's still going strong in the living room - before Scott asks, "Do you go out a lot?"

"Um. No. Not anymore." He stumbles: "Like - dating or - ?"

"Anything. Do you have friends you see regularly?"

"Not really. My coworkers at the café are cool, but we all have weird schedules. As for anyone else - I have Charlie and. Y'know. Most people our age, uh, don't really wanna plan their night around a toddler for me."

"I'd plan a night for you," Scott says with a grin, and it's not necessarily an invitation - just a sweet sort of declaration. Isaac believes him. "I would. With Charlie, too."

Isaac's mouth picks up briefly in the corners. "Would you?"

"Yeah, she's a chill little kid. Plus, my friend Derek - the one with the eyebrows that was frowning when you met him? He has younger siblings, tons of nieces and nephews. I got used to helping him babysit when we were teenagers. Stiles was awful," Scott laughs at some unknown memory. "They make him frustrated, I think he like, expects them to answer properly and use logic and, you know, feed and clean themselves."

"Not you, though?"

Scott puffs his chest out proudly as he grins. "Nah, I'm an immature brat most days, I fit right in." He taps his fingers on the table and dances in his seat for a moment. “We can hang out, whenever. If you’re ever here with nothing to do. I bet Allison and Lydia would love to babysit, if you ever need a day off.”

“I have a regular babysitter,” Isaac says. “There’s a girl upstairs whose watched her since I moved in - but thanks for the offer.”

“No problem. And I’m free, uh, you know, after class and work. If you ever wanna bring her over too, and chill. I have kid friendly video games! And this guy I know - Jackson - he works at the supermarket a few blocks down and hooks me up with juice and stuff, so she’ll have plenty to eat and drink; I think he’s trying to get on my good side so I put in a good word with Lydia, but he’s barking up the wrong tree with that, unless he just thinks she and Allison’ll be up for a threesome, but -”

Scott says this all on the same breath, and then stops, suddenly, and gives a self-deprecating laugh. “Sorry. I ramble when I’m nervous.”

He doesn’t elaborate on why, and Isaac doesn’t ask - Scott pulls his phone out of his pocket, checks the time and stands. “I should get going, actually.”

Isaac stands, too. “I’ll let you out.”

“I got it,” Scott grins and turns on heel. “Watch the movie with your daughter - we’re on for Friday?”

Isaac tries not to nod too vehemently and Scott bites back _yet another_ grin. 

“Awesome. See you then.”

“Bye!” Isaac calls, leaning over the back of his chair as Scott closes the door behind him. He glances at Charlotte lounging on the sofa, rises and heads over to her. He slumps down onto the sofa and she crawls up next to him and leans against his side. 

“Who that?” she asks, and he hands her a sippy cup with a built in straw along its side and watches Andrew Garfield crash through a building.

“New friend, I think.” Isaac brushes at her hair. “His name’s Scott.”

“Scoot,” she says with her mouth around the straw; Isaac laughs and tickles her side.

“ _Scott_ , babe.”

“Scoot,” she repeats, and he rests his head on hers and holds her close.

“Yeah, alright. Scoot.”

*

Lydia and Stiles are arguing over the remote when Scott gets back to the apartment. There's this tug of war going, with Allison standing off to the side, hands on her hips; she sighs, stomps over towards the dartboard set up against the wall - Lydia says something about ramming the remote down Stiles' throat if he even thinks about putting on another episode of _Hoarders_ , Stiles mumbles maybe they should watch that daytime TV thing about anger management again because she's clearly in need of a refresher -

"Ow!" Stiles jerks away from her and shakes his hand out. The remote drops between them; Lydia picks it up, smiles and _skips_ towards the sofa.

Stiles glares at Allison. "Did you throw a dart at me!"

"It's plastic," Allison says with a roll of her eyes. She pushes past him, sits next to Lydia as she changes it to the History Channel. "It didn't even break the skin."

"If I get tetanus, it's your fault," Stiles tells her, and then notices Scott still leaning against the door. "Dude! Allison stabbed me. Did he say yeah?"

"I think so." He smiles, sags a little. "His daughter's really cute. Her name’s Charlie."

Lydia leans over the back of the sofa. "Did you meet her mom?"

Scott's pretty sure Isaac wouldn't want him spilling all his secrets, so he offers, "Out of the picture."

"Hm," she turns back around, curls up against Allison's side. "Interesting."

"Interesting," Stiles repeats. "Yes. What I find incredibly interesting is why you, Scott, have decided to go for some random guy with a kid -"

"Stiles," Allison kicks out a leg at him, but he skirts around it -

" _And_ you don't even know if he likes dudes?"

"He doesn't have to," Scott shrugs. "He just has to like me."

(He hears Allison murmur _aww_.)

Stiles walks up to him, slings an arm around his shoulder and pulls him in close. "Look, I love you," he drags Scott into the recliner with him, tugs until Scott's leaning on the arm. "You're my best friend. I don't want you to get your hopes up and then find out he's not even a _little_ interested in your dick -"

Lydia scoffs, "You're so crass -"

" _Or your heart_ ," Stiles finishes pointedly.

"I just wanna get to know him," Scott says. "I'm cool with being his friend - getting him out of his apartment every once in awhile. He doesn't seem like he gets a lot of breaks. If he ends up liking me, that's cool, too. It's just a crush on a hot neighbor. Whatever."

"A hot neighbor with a really cute kid," Allison adds, just for the fun of it, and Scott grins. 

"I offered your babysitting services, just in case."

Allison holds out a hand for him to grasp; she smiles. "Always happy to help out a cause."

Lydia purses her lips. "What's the cause?"

"Scott christening your new apartment with some hot neighbor sex?" Stiles guesses, and then looks up at Scott. "Also maybe playing Parcheesi with him. Because friendship is important too, or something."

"Exactly, Stiles," Scott says with a laugh. He pushes off the arm of the recliner. "Okay, I have to get to a lecture; Stiles you need to leave before Lydia kills you -"

"Which will be very, very soon if I find you deleting my recorded shows to make room for your awful taste -"

Allison claps a gentle hand over Lydia’s mouth and waves her other at Scott. "Have fun in class!"

"I won't!" he calls back, and she laughs. Stiles follows him out, barrels into him.

"Scott! Gimme a ride back to mine. My Jeep’s still in the shop and Allison picked me up earlier."

Scott checks his phone when they hit the first floor. "Stiles, I have twenty minutes to get to class," he pauses, and sighs, because what's the point in pretending like he won't help Stiles out, really. "At least give me a couple bucks for gas? I'm on fumes."

"Sure thing, pal of mine," Stiles says, and then tugs on Scott's bicep to get him to stop. They're on the top step, and Stiles' face is doing that weird thing when he’s actually trying to be serious.

"Hey, you know I'm kidding about the kid thing, right?"

"Yeah, dude," Scott heads down the steps and across the street towards his car; Stiles knocks their shoulders together.

"You - you can get attached to people, you know? And I don't want you to _actually_ end up liking him instead of just wanting to hook up with him - what, am I _wrong_ ," he asks when Scott lifts an eyebrow, and Scott leans against the driver's side and smirks, "and then find out he's like, afraid of commitment, or relationships, or guys with lopsided jaws."

He opens up the passenger side and buckles himself in; Scott rubs at his jaw, slides in and shuts the door. "Yeah, fine, point taken."

"I want him to like you. Frankly, if he doesn't, he's probably a terrible person. So, you know. His loss."

Scott starts the car and pulls out of the parking space. "Stiles, nothing's even happened yet."

"I'm being proactive. In the off chance that _nothing_ stays exactly that."

"You're a good friend, Stiles," Scott says idly as he leans forward to read a street sign. Stiles snorts and props his feet up on the dash.

"I'm your _best_ friend. Now, c'mon, kick it into gear, Scott, you have fifteen minutes to get to school. Do you have a turbo speed button? Is this it? No, that’s the cigarette lighter -”

“Jesus,” Scott laughs. “I’m gonna be so fucking late.”

*

Isaac shows up late, that Friday. He doesn’t mean to; he misses his first bus, has to frantically text Heather that he’ll be late, and by the time he’s dressed in non-uniform clothes and knocking on Scott’s door, it’s nine thirty.

Danny opens it, nods hello to Isaac and smiles down at Charlotte. “Hi, there.”

Charlotte waves with the hand not gripping Isaac’s; there’s a plastic Spider-Man clutched in her grip. “Hi.”

“Scott’s gonna flip,” Danny says then, looking back up at Isaac.

“What? Why?”

“He thought you weren’t coming. Scott,” Danny calls, glancing over his shoulder. He steps aside to let them through, and Isaac can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Guess who’s here.”

Scott’s head pokes up from behind the sofa, where Stiles, Lydia and Derek are sitting around a game, it looks like, beers in hand. Scott hops over the back end of the piece of furniture, grinning wild. “Isaac! Hey, dude, I was getting worried you weren’t gonna come!”

“Missed my usual bus,” Isaac says. 

“You should -” he pauses to offer a hand out for Charlotte to shake; she takes it instead and his smile gets impossibly bigger. “You should give me your number. You know. Just in case you ever need to text, and can’t. Because you don’t have my number.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Danny mumbles around the mouth of his beer. Charlotte stares at him with wide, round eyes and he holds the beer behind his back and schools his face into something gentler. “Hey, sweetheart, you want something to drink?”

She keeps staring. Isaac nudges her. “Charlotte, he asked you a question.”

“I have apples?” she asks, and then says a sentence that doesn’t even make sense to Isaac - something about cars, he thinks, or maybe pears. Danny and Scott both stare at him, waiting for a translation, and Isaac shrugs. 

“Yeah, I have no idea. But she has stuff in here,” he shifts her backpack off his shoulders, and Danny takes it one-handed with the hand holding his beer. He holds his other out to Charlotte just before Allison appears with a smile. She drops her chin to Danny’s shoulder, waggles her fingers at Charlotte.

“Hi there, Charlie.” Isaac’s brows furrow - he can’t remember telling them her name - but Scott gives him a sheepish grin and rubs the nape of his neck, mouths _told ‘em_. Allison says, “C’mon, let’s see what’s in your bag.” She sits down right there on the floor, legs crossed, and Danny sets his bottle down on the counter kitchen counter before he joins her.

Charlotte looks up at Isaac in question and he nods. “Go ahead.”

She kneels down with them, babbling something as Danny gets open her backpack. “I colors,” she says, and pulls out a coloring book. She hands it to Allison, digs into her bag for some markers. “You wanna?”

“Yes, we’d love to,” Allison says, and Danny’s wearing a fond smile as he opens up the coloring book. Isaac feels a bit grateful, of all things - this isn’t weird, hanging out with them. Doesn’t have to be. 

Allison uncaps a marker for Charlotte and she grabs it with a chubby hands, draws a line across the paper and drags onto the hardwood. “Don’t worry,” Isaac says before anyone can accuse his kid of dirtying up their floors, “it’s those magic markers that only color on certain paper. It won’t get on your clothes or anything.”

“That’s awesome!” Danny’s grinning, uncaps a red one and scribbles into the coloring book; the red appears after a few moments and he laughs. “Kids have all the cool toys nowadays, Jesus. Charlie, you want a green one? Look, that’s a tree, color it green -”

“No, blue,” Charlotte says, and Allison hands over the correct color. Scott tugs on Isaac’s hoodie. 

“Wanna drink?”

“Um. I’ll have a beer, I guess.”

Scott grabs two out of a half-full carrying case, twists off the caps and hands Isaac one. He heads to the sofa, smiles back at Isaac. “Told you it was chill.”

“Yeah,” Isaac takes a sip of his beer. “It’s just, you know. You hear a twenty-year-old is having an apartment-warming party, you kind of assume it’s gonna be,” he gestures with his hand. “Big, or whatever.”

“Oh, I do throw parties,” Scott laughs when they near the coffee table Lydia, Stiles and Derek are sitting around. “Just didn’t feel like it this time.”

“What’re they playing -?”

“Our version of Pictionary,” Lydia says, crouched down to stare eye-level at an hourglass timer as Stiles draws scribbles out a drawing. Derek is sitting across from him dead silent, waiting. Stiles holds up the drawing pad: it’s a long, oval-shaped _thing_ with tendrils drawn on one end, looks sort of like -

“Stiles, that looks like a literal steaming piece of shit,” Derek says. 

“It’s not.” He shakes the pad, like that’ll help. “Think!”

“A melted Snickers bar.”

Scott laughs, sags into the loveseat and pulls Isaac down with him.

“Oh, my God,” Stiles says, “please use your brain for something other than calculating how long you have to brood to get a girl to ask what’s wrong -”

“Stiles, your long-winded barbs aren’t as useful when we’re in the middle of a _game_ , you idiot -”

“I know what it is,” Lydia says sweetly, and watches the sand slowly trickle down the hourglass. “And your time’s up.” She looks at Derek. “It’s a cigar. Sigmund Freud.”

Stiles thumps his head on the table. “Everything is awful. Isaac, you’re about to witness a grown man cry.”

Lydia flicks him in the temple, and looks up at Isaac. “Hi. We didn’t get properly introduced yesterday.” She holds out a hand to shake his. “Lydia Martin. Do you want to play? Scott’s pretty awful, I could use the help.”

Isaac glances towards the front door, by the kitchen - Danny and Allison are still on the floor with Charlotte, clinking their juice boxes with hers like champagne flutes. “How do you play your version?”

“It’s really the same as regular Pictionary,” Stiles says. “Except the losing team has to do the winning team’s laundry for a month.”

“We don’t play it a lot,” Scott says, leaning in to him. “Which is also why everyone gets into it.”

“God, I’m not going to be responsible for deciding who gets to do clothes,” Isaac says. “I’ll watch, though. ...So - Stiles, you room with Derek -"

"I hate him," Stiles says brightly.

"It's a complicated friendship," Lydia explains. "Based on mutual tolerance cultivated over an extended period of time spent together, barely concealed contempt, and a love of Scott, really."

"Also - also Derek's apartment is massive, and he's always gone, so it's basically like having it to myself."

“That, and Allison and Lydia were willing to give me their smaller room for a hundred bucks less,” Scott says, and nudges his thigh against Isaac’s. He's wearing this sweet, open smile - genuine and inviting, and Isaac can't help but smile back. "You wanna see it?"

Derek laughs. Stiles snorts quietly and takes swigs her beer. Lydia murmurs, "Down boy," and Isaac opens his mouth to answer when he hears, "Daddy!" 

He coughs, shifts away from Scott and sees Charlotte galloping over to him with a paper in her hand. She stumbles, falls to her knees and pushes right back up. Danny lifts her over the back end of the sofa, plops her in between Scott and Isaac; he drops down into the armchair, and Allison goes next to Lydia.

Charlotte climbs into his lap and shoves the paper in his face. "I did it!"

"You did," he holds it away to inspect it. "It's beautiful."

"Look, 'coot," she says, and leans over Isaac's arms to show Scott. He chuckles and brushes his fingers through her hair. "It's awesome, Charlie. What're you calling me?"

"Scoot," Isaac says, and the others all laugh. 

"Scoot!" Lydia presses her hands to her cheeks. "That's adorable."

Isaac's gaze flicks to Scott. Scott shrugs and smiles. 

"At least it's not Toot?"

*

Isaac leaves around eleven with Charlotte nodding off in his arms, half a dozen new numbers in his phone and a hug from Scott in the hallway that lasts longer than any of the others.

He might lean into it, might tuck his nose against Scott's neck. This is definitely a bad idea on a number of levels - Isaac doesn't like distractions, he has next to no social life because of work and school and can’t really _do_ dating, if he’s even reading this right. Scott's a twenty year old kid who is - admittedly - nice, and sweet, and apparently _really fucking built_ under the Henley he's wearing -

But he's a twenty year old without baggage, and Isaac's tired of people leaving when things get tough.

Scott pulls away, laughing, and says, "Text me, okay?" and Isaac can do _this_ , at least; find a few friends his age who are willing to something as kind as letting his daughter play a round of Pictionary and pretend that every scribbled drawing is a masterpiece. He nods, and makes a promise he’s willing to keep.

*

Turns out it’s pretty easy, being Scott’s friend. Isaac gets why people are drawn to him: Scott’s affable, energetic - like an overgrown puppy, almost - and he can’t stand to see someone upset, or stepped on. Derek, even, tells Isaac of a time when he, Scott and Stiles were all kids: they’d been playing video games in Derek’s room, oblivious to the world, and Scott had smelled gas and shot up fast. 

They’d run downstairs and rushed out of the house with Derek’s mother, sisters and Derek’s then-toddler aged niece and nephew, only to find out eventually that the gas line behind the stove had been dislodged and leaking. Scott kicks at the throw rug on the ground when Derek tells it, mumbles, “Someone would’ve noticed the smell eventually,” but Stiles swears he couldn’t and Derek - still, even though it’d happened almost a decade ago - looks at him like he’s thankful and tells him as fondly as possible, “Shut up, Scott.”

Lydia tells Isaac after three glasses of wine one night that they’d move into this neighborhood, into this apartment, because their last one had been broken into in the middle of the night. Isaac asks if everything was okay, and Lydia mentions something about Allison, and an old archery bow, and gets this far-off look in her eyes and goes off in search of her girlfriend. 

They disappear - though, Isaac hears a distinct _giggling_ coming from their room a few moments later - and Danny stretches his legs out on the sofa and finishes the story: Scott had moved in with them instead of staying with Derek and Stiles because of the money and also because he’d been worried, wanted to make sure they’d be okay by themselves. 

“Not,” Danny adds, “that he was assuming they couldn’t take care of themselves. ‘You’re totally capable on your own, but I love you and also I kinda wanna see Allison shoot a dude with an arrow’ were his exact words, I think.”

And maybe Charlotte’s viewing habits are skewing Isaac’s rational thought, but Scott sort of reminds of him Spider-Man - just a normal guy who does what he can to help. 

(He tells Scott this when he’s over with Charlotte one night; Scott jokingly gives his limbs a shake, swipes a hand over the back of his neck and proclaims _no bites, dude, not a hero_. But he smiles and looks down at his hands and Isaac feels too-big and too-happy and ten kinds of content when he traverses the three steps back to his own apartment a few hours later.)

Fall treads on, and as the months pass, Scott somehow becomes the first person he texts in the morning, the last person he talks to at night, and Isaac doesn’t know what they’re doing exactly, only knows he doesn’t want it to stop. He’s not going to start something with Scott that’ll hurt if it ends when Scott meets someone at school, or when he decides he wants to live his life without worrying about someone else’s kid all the time, but Isaac likes whatever routine they’ve fallen into, mostly because they’ve fallen into it together.

*

Scott’s screwed.

He’s lying on his bed, contemplating how and when, exactly, his _whatevercrush_ on a hot neighbor turned into goodnight texts and too-long glances at mouths that Isaac probablydefinitely notices because Scott’s as transparent as tracing paper when he’s interested in someone.

He groans into the pillow under his head and Stiles pounces on him.

“I told you,” he says as he shifts to sit at the headboard, and he sounds apologetic. “You get attached.”

“Noo, but I wasn’t supposed to like him like this.” Scott’s voice is muffled from where his face is smushed into the pillow. “I kinda just wanted to kiss him but now it’s like, I wanna kiss him and see what he looks like when he wakes up in the morning, and I wanna take him and his kid out to do fun stuff, and Jesus, he’s really cool, y’know? Stiles. _Stiles_.”

“Yeah, buddy, I know,” Stiles pats his shoulder. “You’re screwed.”

“I’m so _screwed_ ,” Scott agrees on an exaggerated, elongated groan. Stiles stops patting his shoulder.

“Hey, maybe not, you know? Maybe you can talk to him.”

“And tell him _what_ , Stiles? ‘Hey, I sorta like you a lot, and I know you have a kid and a shitty ex but I think this can work, if we try.’ That’s so - that’s so _Hallmark Movie Channel_ , dude. I swear to God, that’s the kind of speech someone gives on Christmas Eve in a fucking airport or something. Nope.”

“Don’t knock the made-for-TV-movie route,” Stiles tells him. He tries to look Scott in the eye, leans over too far falls off the edge of the bed. He reaches out a hand on the floor to cup Scott’s face with a hand. “Okay one, ow, and two: I think I heard somewhere once that honesty is the best policy. Unless, what, you’re scared he’ll turn you down and then stop talking to you?”

Scott frowns with his whole _body_ it feels like, and Stiles laughs - not at him, mostly, but also yes, a little - and _coos_. “Aw, Scott, c’mon, man. We’re not in high school anymore. Everyone’s mature here -”

“Stiles, you’re wearing Spongebob undies -”

“ - mature and still in touch with their childlike sense of wonder, which is not a thing a person should ever lose, Scott - and, anyway, he seems into it.”

“Yeah, but there’s being into it and actually, like, wanting to be serious.”

“Well, maybe we can draw up a plan.” He rolls along the floor to Scott’s closet, and opens it wide to assess the pile of board games for a long moment before pulling out one in particular and dumping its contents. “Like Mouse Trap. Look, we'll call it How To Avoid All Of Life's Obstacles And Win Isaac's Heart."

Scott laughs. "What the hell, Stiles, he's not a piece of cheese."

"Okay, but," Stiles waves a hand at the mess of a board game as he starts to set it up, "it's like, a metaphor for your life, dude. You _are_ the mouse. Isaac _is_ the cheese. This boot thing - I dunno what that is, but it's not good."

"Jesus, Stiles, you make it sound like - I'm not gonna eat him -"

"He'd probably be Gouda though," Stiles looks up at him from across the room. "You _love_ Gouda, Scott."

"Yeah, but I don't wanna fuck Gouda."

“You’re so difficult,” Stiles says without any heat, and then suggests: “I can write him a text, if you want.” 

He grabs Scott’s phone off his bedside table. Scott makes a feeble attempt to stop him, decides he doesn’t care because it’s not like Stiles will send it, and when Stiles crawls up to him and shows him his phone again, Scott rolls his eyes.

 **To: Isaac (saved draft)**  
DEAR ISSAC DO U LIKE ME CHECK ONE  
_ YES  
_ YES  
_ HOW DO U LIKE UR EGGS 4 BREAKFAST ;)

“And who says romance is dead,” Scott wonders flatly. Stiles rests his head against the edge of the bed and his mouth quirks up into a smile.

“We’ll figure something out, dude. Even if I have to buy you a plane ticket just to get him to chase after you.”

“Please don’t.”

“You’re saying ‘please don’t’ but I’m hearing ‘yes, please, Stiles, book two roundtrip flights to the Bahamas on my debit card.’”

Scott opens his mouth to retort when his phone buzzes in Stiles’ hand. Stiles swipes the phone open to read it; he mutters, “Shit, that’s cute,” and holds the phone out for Scott. It’s a picture message - Isaac and Charlotte, both in pajamas, sticking their tongues out at the camera.

 **From: Isaac**  
Night 203 :) wjsdlwpdlkaKDIWLDLkdj??:* & (Charlie wanted to write something too, ha)

Scott muffles a scream into his pillow.

*

Isaac takes the bus home for Thanksgiving - to his mother’s house, and they have a quiet dinner, nice, and she asks if _anything’s new have you met anyone you don’t have to do all this alone let me help -_

But Isaac just clears the plates and offers a smile; he can take care of Charlotte, can be a dad - both parents, really - and his mom comes from a good place, but part of Isaac thinks moving in with her is some admission of failure, an acknowledgment that he's not enough for Charlotte.

Cam’s on military leave for a week and he and Isaac have a smoke on the front steps once Charlotte is out like a light with her grandmother. They’re huddled together to stave off the cold, and Cam blows a series of cigarette smoke rings at him and asks, “So _are_ you seeing someone or what?”

Isaac shrugs, thinks _or what_ , and mumbles around his own cigarette, “I don’t know.”

Cam laughs. “What do you mean you don’t know?” and when Isaac shrugs again, Cam slings an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in close. Isaac takes a drag of his cigarette, holds it away to exhale. “C’mon,” Cam eggs him on, “guy or girl? Are they treating you right? Do they know about Charlotte?”

Isaac watches the ash fall off the end of his cigarette and gives him a subdued smile. “I don’t want to saddle someone with all the shit I have to deal with.”

“Like - ? I swear, Isaac, if you shrug again -”

Isaac laughs, and leans into his brother. “Like, what if Kali comes back? She’s still Charlie’s mom. I don’t want to drag him - Scott - into some personal battle -”

“Jesus, Isaac, you make it sound like it’s a chore to be with you.”

“Sorta is.” He scuffs the heel of his shoe against the concrete step and shivers against the wind. “She’s not a mistake. She’s never - from the day she was born, she was anything _but_ , y’know? But I can’t let another person into her life and then take them away, just like that.”

Cam squeezes Isaac shoulder and knocks their heads together. “You’re an idiot, you know that, right?”

“Yes, obviously, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear, thank you,” Isaac deadpans, and Cam laughs again. 

“No - Isaac, have you ever thought about _asking_ him? You can condense all of this shit into one simple question instead of moping because you’re confused about a friendship. We’ve _all_ been there - you want to say something, but you don’t want to ruin things the way they are now - but seriously, _nothing_ will ever happen if you’re too scared to let it.”

Isaac glances around the empty block. “I feel like there should be a string quartet playing softly over this entire conversation.”

“Asshole,” Cam tells him cheerfully. Then: “Just think about it. What do you have to lose?”

Isaac wants to say _a lot, really_ , but all that comes out is, “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”

“I’m coming back for Christmas,” Cam tells him. “I’ll shave your eyebrows off in your sleep if you aren’t dating him by then.”

“Jesus,” Isaac laughs again, head thrown back and cigarette forgotten. “That’s an incentive, sure.”

“Idle threats,” Cam corrects, and then gives Isaac’s cheek a few gentle slaps. “You deserve to be happy, Isaac. I know no one in this family has the greatest track record, but there’s always an outlier.”

Isaac’s phone buzzes in his pocket; he pulls it out and checks. It’s a text from Scott - _GOBBLE GOBBLE TURKEYYYYYY :D my mom made a shit ton of tamales and pan dulce dude I’m bringing some back with me for you to try!!!!!!_

Cam snorts. “Is that him?”

Isaac doesn’t bother biting back his grin. “Yeah.”

“Hm.” Cam flicks his cigarette away and rubs his fingers over Isaac’s eyebrows, whispers, “Remember what you have to lose.”

Isaac bats his hand away. “Yeah, yeah.” He looks at Cam and nods. “Thanks.”

“We’re family,” Cam ruffles his hair and smacks a kiss to his temple. “It’s what I’m here for.”

*

December hits, and the snow falls over the city. Winter break means Isaac’s free from both school _and_ his work-study hours at the café, but he still has to make money and manages to snag a job at the Starbucks a few blocks down from them like he’s done every winter since he’s moved here. 

He sets up a little tree in their apartment a week before Christmas - promises his daughter a massive ten foot pre-lit one when they move into a house, eventually - and then heads next door with Charlotte in hand to help Allison, Lydia and Scott with theirs. They’re loop along little handmade popcorn-and-cranberry strings, and Scott gives Charlotte a star, lifts her up so she can place it on top of the tree. It’s hardly taller than Isaac’s head, and Scott holds tight to Charlotte and smiles at him.

“I’ve always wanted a big tree, you know? One of those ones that look like they’re in a magazine. Ten feet, all the lights matching. Never lived in a house big enough to have one, but it’d be nice.”

Charlotte’s talking to him about the tree - _it’s pretty Scoot look the ordaments can I have popcorn_ \- and tries to stuff the Santa cookie she’s been eating into his mouth. He chokes on a laugh, takes a bite and offers it back to her, smiles with crumbs sticking to his lips. “Is that dumb?”

Isaac shakes his head. “No, I - me, too.”

“Yeah?” He licks the crumbs away. “Cool.”

Isaac glances behind them. Allison’s on a step stool hanging up mistletoe and Lydia leans up on her heels to press a smile to her mouth; Danny’s cradling a bowl of popcorn in his lap on the sofa and watching Derek and Stiles play an extremely uneven round of arm wrestling that mostly involves Derek sittiing completely still and Stiles using all his weight to shove their clasped hands in one direction with a grimace on his face.

When he looks back, Scott’s still smiling at him. Charlotte’s sprinkling cookie crumbs into his hair, and he pretend-chomps at her hands and asks, “Hey, are you doing anything for her birthday? It’s Saturday, right?”

“Yeah, and probably not, aside from a cake and a few presents. I don’t even think I can make it to my mom’s, but I’ll see her for Christmas anyway, so.”

“Wanna throw her a party here? I mean - she doesn’t have like, little kid friends or anything, but it might be cool. If you want.”

Isaac raises a knowing eyebrow. “Do you already have something planned?”

“I maybe have rented a helium balloon machine,” Scott relents. “And I bought this pin-the-Spider-Man sticker thing -” 

“Scott -”

“It’s not a big deal,” Scott says swiftly, and blinks when crumbs fall onto his lashes. 

“You have cookie in your hair,” Charlotte tells him, sounding satisfied, and he nods very seriously at her.

“Yes, thank you, Charlie. I’ll save it for a snack later,” he peeks at Isaac. “So?”

“You wanna do that for her?”

 _For me_ , he means, but Scott just lifts a shoulder. “Of course I would. She’s the coolest little kid ever, she deserves to have a kick-butt birthday.”

Isaac watches him, hears Stiles groan frustratedly and snap _you brute, what are you, an actual ox -_ and Danny saying, “Ladies, no fondling when there is a _child present_ -” 

And a smile spreads slow across Isaac’s face, lifts up one end of his mouth, and then the other, until it feels like it might split in two. 

“Yeah, okay,” he says. “A party.” 

“Daddy, I tired,” Charlotte says, resting her head in Scott’s crumb-filled hair. “Scoot, home please.”

Scott’s eyes crinkle up and he says, “I’ll walk you to your door.”

*

Charlotte's dozing with her arms around Isaac's neck when they get to his apartment, and instead of unlocking the door and heading right in, Isaac meanders in the middle of the hallway. Scott’s door is still wide open, and he can see their friends glancing out from time to time, curious but pretending not to be. 

Isaac adjusts his arms around Charlotte, hitches her up better; he smiles at Scott. "Thanks. For tonight, and for - you know. Everything, I guess. You don’t have to do stuff like this."

Scott seems surprised. “I want to. I like - I always like hanging out with you.”

Charlotte mumbles something sleepily, and Isaac brushes at her hair. 

"You're a great dad, you know."

Isaac hides a smile in his daughter's hair and glances at Scott. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, dude, and I swear, your kid is the coolest little kid I’ve ever met." He slides a hand up Isaac’s arm. “She gets it from you, I guess.”

Isaac clears his throat and looks down at where Scott's hand is curled around his bicep. He's close, and Isaac can smell his cologne, or shower gel - something woodsy and heady - and he sways in a little, and then catches himself.

“Why’d you walk to me the door?” Isaac asks, his lips curving into a smile and Scott huffs out a laugh.

“I don’t know, it’s gentlemanly?” He licks his lips, and Isaac tracks the movement; his smiles fades, then, and he takes a breath: 

"Um - you know, if you ever want to do something, just. Just the two of us, after you get out of work or whatever, we can. Do. That. Um. Lydia and Allison like babysitting Charlie when Heather upstairs can’t, so they wouldn’t - they wouldn’t mind. And then I can take - take you home, after -”

He squeezes his eyes shut briefly and laughs. "I mean - shit, like walk you home. Like this."

"I get you." Isaac interrupts him with a grin before he can say anything else, and Scott rubs the nape of his neck, sheepish.

"Sorry - I always do this around you." He slides his hands back into his pockets and when Isaac tilts his head, Scott explains: "I don't know, say stupid stuff. My mouth gets all weird and nothing comes out right."

Isaac laughs, an exhaled burst of surprise. "Why?"

Scott looks at him, and then away. "Dunno." He kicks at the dingy hallway carpet with the toe of his shoe. "You make me - um."

A pause. Isaac murmurs _make you what_ and Charlotte stirs, whines like she's going to cry, and Isaac winces. 

"I should - it's way past her bedtime, she has to go to bed."

"Yeah, yeah, sure - sorry," Scott waves his hand, backs away until he's back inside of his own apartment. Isaac gets his door open and Scott says, "I'll um - so I'll see you Saturday?"

He glances over his shoulder: Scott’s standing on the threshold, hanging in the doorway with his hands on the frame while wearing an endearingly hopeful look on his face. 

Isaac smiles, pushes his door further open with his foot, turns and takes a backwards step in. "Yeah."

"Cool, it's a date," Scott says as he starts to shut his door, and then his head pokes out a moment later, "I mean -"

"I know what you mean, Scott," Isaac laughs, and he's _lingering_ , why is he lingering -

"Tongue-tied."

"What?"

Scott repeats, “Tongue-tied.” A lopsided grin pulls at his mouth. “That's what you make me." 

*

Saturday is a whole day of adults playing kids games, and Stiles wearing ten party cones at once all around his face like a freckle-faced sun, and Charlotte’s squeals of laughter every time Derek piggybacks her around the apartment; she gets cake in his hair and he smiles like it’s the best thing ever. 

Danny brings a platter of cupcakes from the bakery he works at, as well as a birthday cake with Spider-Man figurines placed in it. They sing happy birthday and she _cries, why do little kids always cry_ but she gives them a watery smile after she hides her face in the crook of Isaac’s neck for fifteen minutes, one that gets even wider when Scott gives her a stack of presents. 

They eventually wind down; Danny drives Stiles and Derek home after they both get stomach aches from too much cake - Lydia laughs and says, “honestly, you’d think they were the kids, I’m surprised Stiles’ tongue isn’t permanently blue after this from all the frosting he’s eaten” - on the explicit agreement that he’s allowed to a) crash on their sofa and b) not be forced to clean up any cake-puke. Allison and Lydia stay up with them a little longer and then head to bed themselves; Charlotte knocks out sometimes around eight, passed out from a sugar crash. Isaac lets her nap in Scott’s room even though he knows he's going to pay for it later on tonight while Scott makes a half-assed effort to clean up.

Isaac flops down on the sofa and is finishing off a third cupcake when Scott finally sits down next to him and gestures with his fingers at his own mouth. “You have frosting on your face.”

(This has happened before, Isaac thinks as he licks at the corner of his mouth. In about thirty thousand different tv shows and movies, and Isaac doesn’t really know how this turned into his life, but he’s not entirely sure he objects to it.

Maybe he _should_ have a string quartet follow him around everywhere.)

“Here,” Scott sighs, and right, yeah, okay, this definitely happened in some random Lifetime movie Isaac watched _last week_. He swipes his thumb under Isaac’s bottom lip, presses in for the briefest of moments. His eyes flick down - of course they do - and a laugh bubbles up out of Isaac before he can even stop it when Scott licks the excess frosting off his thumb. 

He can’t tell how borderline-hysterical it is, but Scott just straightens out and sits in close. He grabs the remote off the sofa, flips to a random movie - Christmas-themed, naturally - and after a while, he lets his head fall onto Isaac’s shoulder with a soft thump.

He’s so quiet, and it’s silent, all around them, the mess from the birthday party the only evidence that there were even other people here at one point. Scott gets heavier and heavier. Isaac whispers, “Scott, are you sleeping?” 

In response, Scott's fingers stretch out along the side of Isaac's thigh.

There's this _pull_ in Isaac's stomach, this phantom ache in his dick, and Jesus Christ Scott's barely touching him and all Isaac wants to do is -

"So," Scott’s fingers run back and forth lazily, and his nose brushes Isaac's cheek when he turns his head. "So, if I asked if I could kiss you, what would you say?"

"Um," he can't even think, Scott's fingers are too distracting; the only thing he can manage is, "Why?"

"I like you," Scott says it likes it's easiest thing in the world, "you're just - you're really fucking great, and I really like you, and -"

His hand curls over Isaac's thigh. "I've wanted - I've wanted to kiss you since, like." He puffs out a breath and pauses to think. "When I saw you step out of your apartment in the summer - I liked you way after that but, you know."

He squeezes Isaac's thigh, here. 

"I've always wanted to kiss you."

"Um," Isaac swallows, glances towards Scott’s room.

"She’s asleep," Scott reminds him, and when Isaac turns to look, Scott's biting his bottom lip and his posture is rigid, like maybe he's not breathing properly. Like he's waiting.

"I," Isaac hesitates, and then laughs weakly. "Scott."

"Is it because of her?" Scott asks, and Isaac starts to shake his head but Scott shakes _his_ even more emphatically and, "No, see - I love - I love Charlie, and I think I probably love you, too - not.” 

His eyebrows knit together. 

“I just love you? I don't know if I'm - if it's like that, but I love you, and you might be my best friend, aside from Stiles and the others, but I - I've wanted to - I want to. Um. Be with you. You know? And I think you might - you might want that, too. Maybe."

Isaac tries to speak, but just lifts a helpless shoulder. Scott rambles on: "I don't - this isn't some casual thing, I really, I really want to be your - I don't know, would it be boyfriend? Basically whatever means I'd get to, like. Take you out. I _really_ wanna take you out on a date, Isaac, God. And then kiss you - a lot - and - and we could fuck, too, if you wanted -"

His hand squeezes harder on Isaac's thigh in a seemingly unconscious gesture and Isaac breathes in sharp. And then like a switch, Scott's hand slides away and he sighs.

"Shit, nevermind, this is too much, isn't it? I told you I always say stuff wrong around you - I'll - um. I'll wake up Charlie and you can just - pretend this didn't happen or mull it over and get back to me when you're comfortable, fuck -"

He looks down, and shifts. "I'm sorry, I just let out all this shit, I'm so sorry, I meant to hold off or - or not do it all at _once_ -"

Scott starts to stand, and Isaac reaches out and clamps down on his wrist. "Wait."

Scott’s gnawing anxiously at his bottom lip, one knee on the sofa still, sort of - looming over Isaac. Isaac can think of a lot of things he wants to say - _being in love with someone scares me, but you make it seem like it might be okay_ \- but he foregoes that in favor of tugging on Scott’s wrist. Scott stumbles forward, gives Isaac a long look before he slides his other knee up again, this time so he’s bracketing Isaac’s thighs.

Isaac’s chest inhalesexhales too quick to be calm. “Since you met me?”

Scott’s lips are parted; he swipes his tongue across the lower one and nods.

Isaac thinks he might laugh - it’s soft, hitched - and Scott gives him an exasperated smile right back and he sighs, “Do you like me?”

Definitely a laugh, this time. “I do, I -”

Scott cuts him off, catches Isaac’s bottom lip between his own, and then he’s grinning right up against Isaac’s mouth, nipping the corner of it. They breathe, for a moment, and Isaac palms his thighs, head tilted up. They can’t do anything, really - he still has to take Charlotte home - but -

“You’re thinking,” Scott says. His hand curls into Isaac’s hair. “I can tell.”

“Charlotte -”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott interrupts gently. “You can kiss me tonight, at least. We can get to the other stuff later.” 

He rolls in closer as he says this, and his free hand drops between them, knuckles resting against the zipper of Isaac’s jeans. He swallows down Isaac’s laugh, and his mumble of _you sure you mean later_.

“I’m taking you on a date,” Scott tells him in between kisses. “Tomorrow.”

“Heather can’t babysit -”

“I’ll get Allison or Lydia to do it. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing, then,” Isaac’s hands slide up to his hips. “I’m yours -”

Scott laughs and tips their foreheads together.

“Dude, I’m gonna make you so happy if you let me, watch.”

Isaac smiles.

*

“Wait, you’re going on a date. With Isaac. Tonight. The day before Christmas Eve.”

“If I can find a babysitter?” Scott’s voice lilts up at the end, clearly asking them to watch her, but Allison and Lydia shoot each other frowns. 

“We can’t, Scott,” Allison says. “We’re heading to my parents for Christmas, remember? We have to leave this afternoon if we wanna make before it gets too late.”

“Oh,” Scott’s shoulders sag, and he slumps against the kitchen table.

“What about his regular babysitter?”

“She’s on vacation in Florida,” Scott tells the table forlornly. “And Danny’s back home, and Derek’s with _his_ family.”

“Well. Stiles can do it.”

Lydia laughs like it’s the funniest joke she’s heard in awhile and Stiles heads out of the bathroom and says, “I can do what?”

“Watch Charlotte tonight,” Allison says. “Scott has a date.”

“With who? _Isaac_?”

“No, with the plumber that came in here last week,” Lydia says. “Yes, Stiles. With Isaac.”

Stiles takes in Scott’s slumped over figure. “He doesn’t seem that happy.”

“That’s because you’re his only hope for actually going on this date tonight, and you hate kids.”

“You’re my Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Scott mumbles pitifully with his face pressed into the table. “Help me, Stiles.”

Stiles shifts from foot to foot. “How long?”

Scott rolls his head to the side. “Eleven?”

“And we’ll just stay in Isaac’s, right? And I won’t have to - she’s potty trained, so I won’t have to do anything - just like. Feed her. Give her sunlight -”

“God help you,” Lydia tells him, but Scott picks up his head properly.

“Wait, are you saying you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, of course I’ll do it -”

Scott launches out of his seat and throws his arms around Stiles’ neck. Stiles hugs him back tightly, says, “It’s only ‘cause you called me Obi-Wan.”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Scott says happily, and Stiles grins. 

“Yeah, alright, I will. For once.”

*

Isaac’s not sure he can ever actually recount the whole day again - Stiles shows up around five, and gives Charlotte a wary smile; he likes her and he _can_ watch her for a few hours, Isaac knows that, but he pointedly references the emergency contact numbers half a dozen times before they leave, anyway - 

And then it just. Sort of goes blurry.

There’s dinner, at a restaurant. He’s not sure where. Scott drives, and Isaac spends a lot of it feigning like he’s not watching him and getting caught. They talk about - things? Something definitely involving school, at one point. And Scott traps one of Isaac’s boots between his shoes right before the bill comes and looks up at him with this half-smile and Isaac feels a little like he might throw up, but in a good way.

They watch a movie, too, not that Isaac can tell you the plot of it. Or the title. He _does_ remember that there’s a sex scene - only because he feels Scott go very, very still next to him and squeeze Isaac’s fingers a little too tight. He doesn’t let go again until they get to his car, and the second their feet hit the pavement again and Isaac comes around to the driver’s side, Scott holds out a hand.

Feels like a _first_ first date - all tightly wound nervous energy, fitfully dipping stomachs and shy glances and even more timid laughs, after. And Scott jogs up the steps with Isaac right behind, fingers entwined, only to pause when they get to their floor.

“Um,” Scott looks like he doesn’t know which way to head, so Isaac decides for him and walks them over to Scott’s apartment. Scott stifles a laugh in Isaac’s shoulder as he gets the door open. 

Isaac’s heading straight to Scott’s room, shedding his coat and scarf along the way, when the door shuts softly and he turns on heel; Scott’s standing by the kitchen, hesitant, and Isaac leans against the wall, hips canted in silent invitation, hand on the doorknob behind him. Scott grins, cuts the distance between them with long strides - his coat gets thrown alongside Isaac’s - and presses him up to the door with hands sneaking under his sweater. Isaac turns the handle when Scott finally kisses him again and takes a few staggering steps back, pulling Scott with him.

They still haven’t said anything - not until Scott turns him and backs him into the wall with a dull thud, and something catches Isaac’s eye in the corner, the lone thing out of place in Scott’s obviously recently cleaned room.

"Why do you have Mouse Trap laid out like that?"

Scott doesn't bother looking; he sucks a kiss into Isaac's neck, flattens his palms over Isaac's stomach, his ribs.

"Stiles thinks you're cheese."

Isaac makes an amused sound and pushes at Scott's hips to look at him. "What do you think?"

He clasps his hands at the small of Scott's back, raises an inquisitive eyebrow. Scott says, "I think - I think if we're not naked and lying horizontally somewhere in the next fifteen minutes, then I'm gonna lose my mind."

Isaac pushes off the wall and walks around Scott. He gives the board game a once over, and studies Scott as he reaches over his head to pull his sweater off. He drops it at his feet. "Fifteen minutes, hm?"

He goes for his belt, next.

"And strictly horizontal? Scott," he shakes his head and lets his belt hit the floor. "You're underestimating me."

Scott bites back a smile. Isaac lifts his shoulders. "Are you just gonna stand there or do I have to dive-bomb into a giant bowl of Kraft -"

Scott laughs, and curls a hand into the front of Isaac’s jeans to jerk him closer. They stumble towards Scott’s bed and Isaac shoves a hand against his stomach gently; Scott’s legs hit the back of the mattress and he falls onto it, scoots up on his elbows. Isaac crawls up after him, chases another kiss with a grin and Scott buries his face in the crook of Isaac’s neck, his shoulders shaking with soft laughter. “Wait. Wait, wait -”

"You wanna _stop_?" 

Scott peers up at him, tugs his jeans down to his thighs without bothering to undo the buttonfly completely. "No, I - I wanna," he pauses, sits up briefly to strip his own shirt off. "I wanna slow down, just."

Isaac kicks off his boots, and then his jeans, settles in the vee of Scott’s legs, and he holds himself up with hands pressing into the mattress. 

"Lemme," Scott's pawing at his chest, his shoulders, cupping his jaw and holding him in place. "I want -"

"Scott, what?" Isaac laughs, so affectionately, and Scott smiles back like he can't do much else.

"I wanted - I've wanted you for," his hands smooth down Isaac's stomach, stop just above the hem of his boxer briefs. "For months -"

"All the more reason to _get on with it_ ," Isaac says, head dipping to bite a kiss into Scott's chest. He aims lower with the next one, and starts to tug Scott’s jeans down simultaneously. Scott lifts his hips, brushes a hand through Isaac's hair once Isaac pushes their clothes off the bed. He kneels back in when Scott murmurs, "I want to make sure this is actually happening." 

Isaac stills, his head near Scott’s raised knee, and Scott clears his throat, embarrassed. "I mean. I."

Isaac hides a smiles against Scott's thigh and after a moment, nips the skin there. Scott hisses through his teeth and Isaac grins wider. 

"See? Not dreaming."

Scott’s propped up on his elbows now, and looks like he’s going to say something _absolutely filthy_ until something registers and he glances towards his jeans. “Wait, what time is it?”

“Uh,” Isaac cranes over the edge of the bed to dig for his phone. He clicks a side button until the screen illuminates. 10:27.

Scott flops down onto the bed and boos weakly.

Isaac kneels once more, hands on Scott’s knees. “Time crunch. You’re not going to turn into a pumpkin at eleven, are you?”

Scott has an arm folded over his eyes. “No, but I might turn into a blue ball.” 

“We can still,” Isaac leans over him again, to kiss him; his hand curls around Scott’s dick in his boxer briefs. “Do something.”

Scott lifts his arm at that, says shakily, "The things I,” Isaac tucks a hand under his waistband, and Scott licks his lips and closes his eyes, lets his head fall back. “Things I wanna do with you - to you - it's. It'll take a whole lot longer than thirty minutes.”

" _Whole lot longer_.” Isaac leans back down to press a kiss to the cut of Scott’s hip. “You seem confident."

"Isaac.” He looks up. Scott smiles. "You're underestimating me."

Isaac snaps the waistband of Scott’s underwear with his teeth. “My mom’s driving up tomorrow. She’s been dying to take Charlotte ice skating.”

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Scott declares.

*

At 10:57, Stiles texts them both - _I DON’T CARE IF YOURE MID-COITUS THERE WERE TERMS AND CONDITIONS STRICTLY SET AND THEY HADN'T INCLUDED BEDTIME STORIES AND CHECKING FOR MONSTERS IN CLOSETS IT'S 11 I'M FREE_ \- and they snort, and slide off the bed to get dressed.

Isaac heads to the bathroom to gargle some mouthwash, comes back with his coat and scarf, and he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and lacing up his boots as Scott yanks on a pair of basketball shorts and a pair of Converse.

"I'll walk you home."

Isaac folds his coat over his arm and laughs. "Scott."

"No come on," Scott insists, pushing him towards the front door. “I said it was gentlemanly, didn’t I?”

They step into the hallway, take the three steps across it; Isaac turns and lets Scott push him up against the door just like before. He curls his hands under Isaac’s jaw, murmurs, "Can't wait ‘til tomorrow."

Isaac smiles, and his voice is raspy when he says, "Me either."

They're pressed together, groin to chest, and Isaac kisses him, draws his bitten-down nails along Scott's naked back until Scott shivers and

The door whips open. Isaac stumbles back a bit before turning around, Scott’s arms still around him. 

A cranky looking Stiles stands in front of them. 

"Say goodnight now," he says, and Isaac and Scott choke back laughter before Scott pecks him once, twice -

"Okay," Stiles hisses, "we get it, you got your dicks wet. My good deed for the year is done."

"Sorry Stiles," Isaac says, sounding not very sorry at all, and he steps past him and into the apartment. Stiles is in the hallway when Isaac steps out again, quick, to kiss Scott one last time.

"Night," he says, smiling, and Scott grips him by the elbow before letting him slide away.

"Night, 204," he says, and Isaac laughs as he shuts the door.

Scott stands there, grinning at the closed door, until he turns to Stiles, who squints at him.

"You look like a dope."

"A dope who definitely had his dick sucked."

Stiles shakes his head as if Scott's essence disturbs him to his very core.

"Put a shirt on," he says as they head into Scott’s apartment together. "You have bite marks all over you."

Scott fingers the one at his navel lovingly. “I know.”

"I am never doing anyone any kind of favor in vague exchange for sex ever again," Stiles declares. "I feel like a pimp. I feel used, Scott."

Scott runs a hand over a bruise on his chest. "Yeah, me too," he says in a low voice, and Stiles flaps his hands in frustration.

"Never again, Scott!"

*

Cam makes it to Isaac’s on Christmas, and when Isaac introduces him to Scott, Cam laughs, shakes his hand and says, “You just did my brother’s eyebrows a very big favor.”

“Oh-kay,” Scott says, bemused, and Cam walks away to pick his niece up and smother her face in kisses. He sets her back down and she runs towards Scott, attacks his legs with a hug.

“Love you, Scoot,” she says. “Love you this much.”

He scoops her up and kisses her nose. “Love you, too, Charlie,” he tells her, soft and sincere, and it feels a lot like a new start, this moment. Scott glances at Isaac, his arms cradled around Charlotte as she ducks her head to his shoulder.

“Is that - your eyebrows - is that a good thing?”

Isaac slings an arm around his neck and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth as the three of them head into the kitchen.

“It’s great thing,” Isaac says. He smiles. “The best, really.”


End file.
